


lay us down, we're in love

by mrscartoon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Priest AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrscartoon/pseuds/mrscartoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday Mass had finished and the crowd settled in front of the church to chat. It was then that John Smith laid eyes on Clara Oswald for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lord, save me

**Author's Note:**

> A story based on an AU I made a while ago in which Twelve is a Priest in a small town and Clara is the new schoolteacher. The two start a forbidden relationship.
> 
> many thanks to twelvesclaras for being my beta.

Sunday Mass had finished and the crowd settled in front of the church to chat. It was then that John Smith laid eyes on Clara Oswald for the first time.

It was a small town off of London, everyone knew each other and he could not recognize her for the life of him. She was new to the town, had to be. He was sure he would’ve remembered the face of such a beautiful woman.

She caught his lingering stare as she said her goodbyes to those around her. Her large brown eyes haunted him that night.

-

She was the new schoolteacher.

John overheard mothers fawning over Clara. _The greatest teacher this town has had since Mrs. Gordon-- the kids absolutely adore her_. They would exclaim quietly in the corners of the market.

Clara had a way with children, getting them to obey her every request. It was to her benefit that the young lads found her ‘very pretty’ and as such would go to the ends of the town for her.

The school was small. A wooden building with only one large room filled with rusted desks and two handfuls of students. It was separate from the town, allowing the kids enough space to run around and enjoy themselves when given the time. The bright red paint made the building stand out amongst the other dull, wooden homes scattered throughout the town.

John would silently ponder the rumors on his own in the quiet of his office when there were no sermons to give. She seemed sweet enough, dressed conservatively enough and had dimples that would put any other smile to shame. A smile of his own would appear when he thought of hers.

-

They spoke for the first time two weeks into her new position as schoolteacher when she approached his office on a Saturday afternoon.

“It’s just, I was told that Mrs. Gordon had you come every Wednesday to speak to the kids,” she said. “You haven’t gone by since I came around and the kids have been asking for you.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Oswald,” John quickly responded. “I didn’t think my services would be needed any longer.”

“No, please, don’t apologize, Father Smith. I would’ve come sooner had I known about it. She never wrote it down since it wasn’t part of the curriculum. The students were asking me about you and that’s how I found out.”

A heavy silence soon followed. 

“What I’m _trying_ to say, and very clearly failing at it, is that it would be lovely if you could continue coming.” 

John’s heart constricted for a moment. Her pleading eyes and dimpled smile made him weak. It took him a moment to regain his composure and close his gaping mouth. 

“Yes. Yes, of course I will continue going. I would like nothing more.”

Clara let out a relieved breath. “Great! Thank you so much,” she stood from her seat. “Goodbye, Father Smith. I’ll see you around.”

John could barely sleep that night.

- 

The two spoke regularly after the impromptu meeting. Every Sunday after mass, and on Wednesdays after his talk when the students ran off for recess.

From literature to the weather, they spoke about everything that came to mind. It made John grin to himself with every passing conversation that exposed how like-minded they were.

“Denmark and Sweden are lovely,” he mentioned one afternoon as they watched the students run around the yard. Clara had mentioned her yearning to travel further than the confinements of their country. “France, Spain, and Belgium as well.” 

“You sure are well-travelled, Father Smith,” Clara remarked with a smirk.

He etched that particular expression in to his memory, determined to remember it until the end of his days.

“I wanted to see the world God gave us before I settled down.”

“That’s nice. That was my dream once.” 

“What happened?”

“Life.”

Clara was solemn and distant after that. John’s chest ached for her. He tried to keep the conversations light until it was time to go.

 

As he sat in the dark and cramped confessional later in the day listening to one of the residents, Clara Oswald plagued John’s every thought. He was racked with guilt; his heart and mind belonged to the Lord and no other. The way Clara made his heart skip a beat and face flush were inexcusable. He had to resist the young schoolteacher.

But it was too late and he knew it.

-

“You would like to confess?” 

“Yes! I’ve been putting it off for too long.” 

It was a particularly hot Wednesday afternoon and the children were too encumbered by the heat to do much running around. As such, they drew on sheets of paper in the cool classroom. 

Clara sat behind her desk and John beside her. She waved stacks of paper back and forth in order to cool herself off, her hair pulled up in a bun. It had become customary for the father to stay around after his talks to speak with Clara up until the end of recess. Even then, at times, he would loiter around to watch her teach.

“Very well,” John responded with a soft smile. “Come whenever is best and I will be there.”

“Is tonight good?”

“Tonight is perfect.”

-

The evening finally came and John eagerly waited for the arrival of Clara Oswald. He paced vigorously up and down the front of the alter, his large hands clasped against one another behind his back. It was simply a confessional, but he couldn’t stop his anxieties from making him sweat and shake.

The front door opened and there she was in all of her perfection. John struggled to breathe for a moment.

“Good evening, Father Smith,” Clara greeted.

“Good evening, Miss Oswald,” he managed to say. 

Getting his body to respond to his pleading mind, John stretched out his right arm, signaling the confessional at the end of the room.

They each settled into their seats. John looked to his front, determined to not gaze at Clara’s profile. He watched from his peripheral vision her partially silhouetted figure signal the cross. 

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been four years since my last confession,” she let out a nervous laugh.

He smiled. 

“Tell me what ails you.”

“Lets see, I told my gran I would visit her after moving down here, but I haven’t even made the attempt. Taking the train to Blackpool isn’t much of a good time. I love my students, but I can’t handle Eric Saunders any longer. The crude comments he picks up from his father drive me crazy.” She paused with a deep breath. “I feel guilty that I shut religion out four years ago, especially when I needed it the most.”

John turned his head to the screened window.

“I’ve, well, I’ve lain with a man before marriage,” Clara finished with another nervous laugh. “We were to wed, but he passed away of an illness four years ago. He was a kind man, a religious man. When the sickness struck and there was no way of saving him I turned my back on the one thing he believed in the most.” 

John’s heart ached and his stomach tied itself into knots. It hurt to breathe or to think straight after hearing her final confession. Images of a man, any man, holding her made his muscles throb. John lowered his head and did his best to contain his jealousy.

_She is not yours. You have no right to be jealous,_ He scolded himself. 

He was being ridiculous. He was a man of God, not a petty child with a crush on the schoolteacher. There she was telling him how she lost someone, and all he could do was thank the heavens for having taken the man from her. He was a cruel and selfish man. 

What was wrong with him?

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You would’ve liked Danny.” 

The source of his grief was given a name and John prayed forgiveness to the man that once held Clara.

John forgave Clara and told her to go home to continue thanking God for his forgiveness. The moment she left the church, he got down on his knees in the cramped, dark confessional and begged for mercy for the first time in a long time.

-

The smell hit John in the middle of Sunday mass before he even knew what it was. The smell was sweet and made his mouth water. Telling the word of God was rather difficult when he could feel his stomach yearn for whatever it was. 

So when Clara knocked on his office door later, a glass container at hand, he couldn’t begin to feel surprised that she was the one to bring something like that in. John smiled at the sight of her sheepishly entering his office and offering a soufflé she made the previous night. 

“Lauren’s mother, Mrs. McDowns, told me you had a soft spot for chocolate,” Clara explained. She wore a grin and uncovered the baked good for him. “And I thought how lucky for you that I recently perfected my mother’s chocolate soufflé recipe.”

“This smells amazing, Miss Oswald.”

“Please, call me Clara. I would love to see you fall in love with my incredible baking abilities, but I need to run. I’ll see you Wednesday, yeah?” Clara took slow steps back towards the door, John stood from his chair to open the door for her.

“Of course, and John will do just fine when it’s the two of us. Until Wednesday, Clara.” There was a pause before he said her name. John enjoyed the way the name slipped from his tongue, as if tasting the freshest honey.

John stood close enough to watch Clara’s pupils dilate after he spoke her name. He swallowed.

Clara looked up at him, her back nearly bumping against the door. Timidly, she got on the tip of her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek. She lingered for a moment.

As she began to pull back, John turned his head towards her, their noses bumping against one another. His everything yelled at him, telling him to turn away. But the breath that escape Clara’s lips and hit his made him weak.

God, he was so weak for her.

Their lips pressed. It was soft and chaste. Clara was the one to separate first and he felt embarrassed at how out of breath he felt.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Forgive me.”

Clara turned her head away from him, her mouth hanging slightly open. “I shouldn’t have gone that, I’m so sorry. Goodnight, Father Smith.” She slipped out of his office with a quick pace, not once turning back.

John felt nauseous and dirty. The smell of Clara’s soufflé and the lingering feel of her lips only made the pain in his chest grow and grow.

-

The two danced around each other for weeks, there was no other way John could describe what had been happening between them. Clara gave him polite smiles and he offered small chatter, but that was as far as it went.

He no longer dawdled after his talk with the students, leaving as soon as they ran off for recess. She went straight home after Sunday mass; they always locked eyes as she made her way out. 

The void that grew in John’s heart was unlike anything he had ever felt. Even as he prayed in the darkest of nights, nothing replaced what Clara Oswald had taken from him.

And so he wept for his weak will and the almost unavoidable loss of a friend.

-

Clara came to him one evening. The town was quiet and she was the last person he expected. Her voice was low and she avoided his gaze fixedly as she asked to do the confessional.

They sat in the wooden box. Even with the screened window between them, John felt utterly exposed, as though Clara could see every inch of him, inside and out.

Could she see what she did to him?

“Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been three weeks since my last confession,” she spoke under her breath. It was barely a whisper.

“Tell me what ails you.”

Clara said nothing at first, taking in deep breaths as if to calm herself. It caused John’s heart to beat faster.

She finally spoke. “I’m having impure thought about a man of God.”

The silence was deafening and John struggled to formulate any thoughts. He gripped at his knees, the only form of support he had without banging on the walls and alerting Clara. 

It had never felt so cramped as it did then.

Even as John’s conscious told him to forgive her and make her go, he couldn’t. He couldn’t turn away now. He had to _know_.

“And what are these thoughts?”

John heard her breathing falter.

“It is late and I enter his office.” John silently thanked her for omitting that it was he she spoke of. “We chat briefly, but it soon turns into kisses. They’re passionate and leave us panting. He places me on the desk and worships my body with his hands. ” 

John leaned back and closed his eyes. Images of her fantasy coming to him, leaving him yearning and hot. Clara didn’t have to continue, his mind doing the rest of the work for her. Thoughts of his hands caressing her, his fingers entering her heat, making her moan his name and no other. John attempted to will the feelings away, but the tightness in his pants remained.

With fists that made his nail cut into his palm, he breathed in deeply. “I absolve you from your sin.” He was winded and he hated himself. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Now, _please_ , _go home_.”

Clara lingered for a beat before slipping out of the confessional, her quick footsteps echoing throughout the church.

John whimpered and tried to regain his composure. No matter how deeply he breathed in and how rough he rubbed his face, he couldn’t rid of the feelings. The want and need to feel Clara under him, or on top, plagued him. 

He was pathetic and shameful and let his right hand take hold of his length. It was throbbing and heated to the touch. There had never been an erection John couldn’t will away, an erection he couldn’t pray away. But this time, only his trembling hand and fantasies of Clara Oswald were the answer.

Every tug, every pull made his breathing falter and quiet moans to escape his lips. He was better at this when he was younger, but he was old now and filled with indignity. He came with a groan on the door of the confessional, the physical sign of his degradation from God.

John cleaned his mess and apologized profusely to the Lord and Clara Oswald.

-

Two days passed after the incident in the confessional. John would pace his office regularly until his legs ached. He found it to be one of the few activities that kept his mind at ease. 

Different scenarios came across his mind in which he tried his best to confront Clara of the situation at hand. One where he brought it up in passing on a Wednesday and the two laughed it off. Another where he asked her to meet him in his office and after their apologies she somehow ended up cradling his lap. That one never went further than heated kisses.

Regardless of what he thought could or would happen, nothing would get fixed with the two avoiding one another again. John resolved to go to her home and apologize for his behavior. Stop it before it got any worse.

He was a man of God and as such should resist temptation at all costs.

-

Clara’s home was small and wooden, standing on stilts. A warmer resemblance to the school she taught at. The bright red door beckoned John to knock; her shuffling inside was what made his hand rise. He quickly knocked before he could change his mind. He backed away and paced around her front porch. The shuffling stopped instantly and the pattering of her feet reached the front door.

“Who is it?” came her muffled voice.

“Miss Oswald, it’s Father Smith.”

The front door opened wide and Clara’s wide eyes greeted him. The soft lighting behind her made her look angelic.

John cleared his throat. “Good evening, Miss Oswald-“

“Clara.”

“Yes. Clara. I wanted to come and apologize for what happened at the confessional. I shouldn’t have asked you to elaborate. And also the kiss, I should have resisted. I’m the priest and I can’t even keep my thoughts of you pure,” John managed to stutter out. He was looking at his own feet, too afraid to look at her.

“Would you like to come in?”

His head snapped up and Clara smiled up at him. No words were forming, so he nodded.

As he suspected, Clara’s home was as warm and lovely as she was. A red, worn out couch graced her living room. The coffee table filled with books and papers written by her students, if the handwriting gave anything away. Several candles were scattered around, bringing to light what the weak light bulbs could not. 

Clara turned to him after she closed her door, her smile faltering ever so slightly. He concealed his nerves.

“I understand if you don’t wish for me to go to the school anymore.”

“What are your thoughts?” Clara asked.

“I’m sorry?”

She now stood in front of him, determination gracing her face. She wore a deep blue robe that complimented her figure graciously. John kept his eyes glued on hers.

“You said you can’t keep your thoughts of me pure. What exactly do you think about?”

“I- it’s hard to say,” Father Smith whispered.

“It’s okay,” Clara murmured as her hand rubbed the side of his neck. His eyes fluttered shut at the caress.

“I would like to show you.” The words left before John could stop them. His eyes flew open and stared down at her. They both had their mouths open in surprise.

Clara’s hand on his neck loosened and John began to panic. He copiously apologized once more, ready to run away.

“Please,” Clara cut him off. “Please, show me.”

Clara pulled John down by the neck; he didn’t waver. She pressed a soft kiss on his lips that he timidly returned. Another followed.

Without a single other thought in mind, John placed his hands on her hips and brought her closer. The kiss deepened; Clara opened her mouth and licked his lower lip. He enthusiastically opened his mouth for her, moaning at the feel of their tongues grazing.

She kept one hand on his jaw, her other hand scratching the back of his neck. John breathed in deep every time her nails scratched and she sucked at his lower lip.

They managed to make their way to the worn out couch, the back of his knees bumping against the armrest. Clara took a half step, which caused John to stumble back on the couch, he held on to her waist. She yelped, wrapping her arms around his neck for support. He looked up at Clara with wide eyes. 

It was a sudden sobering moment that let the two properly think for a second.

“Let me know this is what you want. I need know you want this,” Clara said.

She was out of breath, her lips were swollen, and her hair was framing her face perfectly. She was an angel. He had never been so sure about anything in his life.

John stared at Clara intently. “I want this,” he finally said. “I want you.”

The smile Clara gave him was contagious. He found himself smiling back, a chuckle escaping his lips. She shifted her weight and cradled his lap; her hands caressed his face and brought him up for a kiss. There was no tenderness, just desperation and clashing teeth.

Clara let go of his face and let her hands roam down his upper body. The gentle way her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his clerical collar clashed with her rough lips. John somehow managed to get his hands to stop gripping her thighs and brought them to the knot holding her robe together. With one, two, three tugs he loosened it and pushed the robe off her shoulders. Her cold hands made contact with his bare chest and he broke the kiss with a hiss. It was the break they both needed to catch their breath.

John eyed what Clara wore, a short satin nightdress. It rode up past her thighs and crumpled on her waist. The pink tint brought out the red blush that covered her face. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” John embarrassedly explained. “I was practically still a boy last time.”

Clara gave him the gentlest smile, exposing her dimples. “Okay. It’s okay. We’ll go slow.” She rubbed his cheek with her thumb affectionately and placed her lips on his forehead.

John didn’t want to say he fell in love at that moment, but he felt something akin to it.

 

Clara slowly lowered herself on to him, letting their bodies get accustomed to each other. She gripped on to his shoulder tightly, her nails digging into his skin. John winced, but couldn’t argue with the pleasurable shiver it shot through his spine. They still wore most of their clothing. Clara had disposed of her undergarment; her nightdress remained. John had lowered his pants enough to expose himself and kept his unbuttoned shirt on.

He knew he wouldn’t last long, Clara probably knew it too.

Breathing in deeply, Clara began to grind her hips. John squeezed her hips with a gasp.

Clara stopped moving. 

“No. _Don’t stop_ ,” John pleaded, unable to open his eyes.

Her hips began to move once more. The heat from her center that surrounded his length caused every nerve on his body to catch fire. She would lift herself and come back down swiftly every so often; John attempted to lift his hips to meet her halfway when she did.

His movements were erratic and he couldn’t keep up with her pace. John ended up coming way before her, gasping her name and apologizing for not lasting longer.

Clara pressed her lips on every inch of his sweaty face, whispering words of reassurance. He wanted to say there was love in her eyes when she looked down at him, but it must have been a trick of the lighting.

They separated and Clara attempted to straighten out her nightdress as much as possible when she got off the couch. John tucked himself in and buttoned his pants back up. He sat up and rubbed the sores Clara’s nails left on his shoulders.

The silence grew heavy.

“Do you want me to go? So you can-“ John struggled to find the right word. “Finish?”

“No, I’m fine,” Clara, laughed as she turned to him and let her hands run through his gray hair. He closed his eyes and embraced the sensation it brought as he leaned his head against her stomach. “Are you going to leave?” she asked.

“I should.”

“Will you leave?”

John looked up at Clara. He thought of the church and everything he was turning his back on.

“No.”

Clara pulled him up from the couch and took him up the stairs to her room. She blew out the candles in the process.

John slipped his shoes off when they entered and lied on Clara’s bed. Her room was quaint and had everything he believed she would own, shelves with far too many books and a vanity with three mirrors. He smiled at the globe that sat on her vanity, different marking scattered throughout the countries. 

She lied next to him after turning off the light. The darkness in the room gave him a sense of courage. He turned to his left to find Clara doing the same. The moonlight illuminated her just right.

“Are we going to talk about this?” John asked. He was so afraid, but needed to know. 

“In the morning,” she responded with a soft nod. “If you stay until then, that is.” It was meant to be a joke, but John could hear tremor in her voice. She was just as frightened as he was. 

“I don’t think I can leave,” he explained. “Even if I tried.” He gave her a crooked smile that made Clara laugh tenderly.

Clara brought herself closer to John and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head on the crook of his neck. He held her tightly in return, his nose concealed in her hair. It smelled exactly like what he imagined heaven would smell like. With his arms wrapped around her waist, John held her like no other, begging the God he betrayed for that night to last an eternity.


	2. lord, forgive me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after forever, here is the final chapter for this story, sorry for it taking so long (thesis is the worst)
> 
> hope you enjoy!

John awoke on top of Clara the following morning. His head rested on her chest, arms wrapped around her waist. One of her hands rested on the back of his head, the other on his back. He let his eyes shut, relishing in the embrace and the sound of her soothing heartbeat.

His eyes snapped open and he untangled himself from her. The sheets went flying off and it was difficult to breathe. John nearly jumped off the bed. Clara was sitting wide-eyed on the bed, her hand on her chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Me, I’m what’s wrong,” John virtually shouted as he paced around her room. The cold from the floor that shot up his bare feet was a welcomed sensation. “God, what have I done?”

John clasped his hands together, desperately whispering apologies. He stood still at the farthest corner of Clara’s room as he did so, eyes shut tight. He could hear the ruffling of her bed, but refused to budge.

What had he done?

_What had he done?_

He felt Clara in front of him before she even laid a tentative hand on his arm. Her caution pained him. Should he look into her eyes, her pity would break him. She could destroy him with a breath.

“John,” Clara whispered.

Her voice quivered and it was all it took for him to look at her. She was still stunning, still an angelic temptress. She unclasped his hands and held on to them gently. He craved her more then than the previous night.

“I shouldn’t have succumbed to my temptations. I needed to be strong and with a glance I fell to your feet.” John looked at her unmade bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me,” Clara said. “For God’s sake, you’re the priest! I knew it was wrong, I _know_ it’s wrong, but every time we spoke I couldn’t stop feeling the way I was. And then we _kissed_ and I just-“ His hands slipped from hers as she turned her back to him. “ _I_ needed to be strong.”

John stared at Clara’s back as it rose with every deep breath she took.

“Do you regret it?” he finally asked.

“Of course not,” she turned to him, exasperated. “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

John let out a laugh at her response; he couldn’t help himself. Of course she would repeat his words from the previous night. The laugh released some of his anxieties and having her smile in return made the light shining in the room seem brighter.

Clara smile wavered. “Is this it then? Part ways and try to get by like nothing has changed?”

“Everything has changed.”

“So, what do we do?”

They stared each other down, the question lingering in the air. John knew what they had to do, and he was sure Clara did too. They had to turn away and hold the memory close during lonely nights. They would continue to speak as friends, nothing more.

But the way Clara looked at him, with unspoken desires, made his mind go blank. John took a single, long step towards her and placed his hands gently on her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. She gave him a nod before he pressed his lips against hers.

They held each other as if life depended on it and perhaps it did. This was their defining moment. Whatever happened would be written in proverbial stone.

Clara moaned into his mouth and John began to move them back towards the bed. As she pulled him down with her, his mouth made its way to the crook of her neck, conscious to not leave visible marks. She pushed his shirt off.

“Lord, forgive me,” John muttered under his breath when Clara unbuckled his belt.

 

-

 

As Clara buttoned his shirt soon after, both realizing he had to go back to the church and she had children to teach, he admitted to her that he wished to continue seeing her. The smile she gave him was so wide that her dimples seemed to grow twice in size. It was very impressive and John wanted to kiss them.

They agreed her home was the desired location for them to spend copious time together.

Two months passed in which every late night, when the town was asleep and those wandering about were the drunks, John made his way to Clara. Barely ever through the door, she would pull him in and he would hold her in his arms as tightly as he could.

Sometimes they would eat, other times they would sit on her couch as she graded and he read. But more often than not, they were on her bed enjoying themselves.

John prided in his improvements when it came to sex. The night he made Clara orgasm for the first time he was so overwhelming he came right after, unable to appreciate the moment. But Clara pressed her lips all over his face soon after, a giggle escaping her lips. John laughed excitedly along with her.

Knowing her smiles were the brightest when it was just the two made his heart contract. That when he touched every inch of her she sighed just for him and no one else. John realized he was falling for Clara. It was no longer an infatuation, an uncontrollable lust. It was something far greater, but he tried not to acknowledge it, out of fear more than anything.

As such, John shouldn’t have been entirely surprised when a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness began to fester within him. Clara was young and breathtaking; naturally the bachelors of the town would want to claim her.

John would see boy after boy saunter towards Clara, trying their hardest to woo her into their arms with promises of lavished dinners and gifts.

Every time their eyes would meet and she would silently beg for his assistance. And every time he ran to her, like a guard dog, to shoo the boys away.

“Miss Oswald,” he would say. “I wanted to speak to you about next weeks lesson plan.”

“Of course, Father Smith!” she would reply with a grin, ready to run off with him.

And every night he would hold her tighter and kiss her deeper, leaving marks on her stomach and inner thighs. He couldn’t leave visible signs for the world to see that she was his, but they would know and that was enough.

 

-

 

Clara cautiously slipped into John’s office one afternoon, keeping aware of her surroundings. A local farmer had caught John going to Clara’s home late one night and questioned him the following day. He had barely gotten away by saying it was an unforeseen emergency. Both had been shaken by the slip and swore to keep away from one another for a few days. It had been two weeks.

John eagerly stood from his chair and made sure to lock the door before taking any further action with her. The click echoed the office and her arms wrapped around him. The kisses were bruising and filled him with no greater joy.

“I’ve missed you,” Clara whispered once they managed to separate.

“I saw you yesterday at the school,” John responded against her neck. He smiled at Clara’s shiver.

“Shut up.”

“I’ve missed you.”

They grinned at one another like love struck children before separating.

“Snogging aside, I _did_ come here for a reason,” she claimed as she plopped herself down on a chair.

“And what would that be?” He stood in front of her, leaning against his desk.

“I’m making lasagna, you’re coming over, we’re eating, and if you’re still worried about people seeing, then you’ll go.”

John’s ears perked at the mentioned food. It was a late night, both lying in bed listing their favorite things in the world. He let the fact slip and she laughed at him.

_“Just never would’ve imagined it.”_

_“It’s delicious!”_

_“Enough to be on the list of your favorite things in the_ world _?”_

_“Enough to be almost at the top of that list.”_

“You know I can’t say no to lasagna,” his voice was low, almost like a warning.

“I know. Come at six.”

Clara stood from the chair and fixed his clerical collar, though it needed none. John smiled down at her before leaning in for a final kiss. He had to take what he could.

The kiss was sweet compared to their earlier encounter. He gently sucked on her lower lip, tilting his head and caressing the back of her head to deepen the kiss. Her small hands placed on his chest gripped on to his shirt and brought him down closer.

When Clara moaned into his mouth, John knew it was time to separate. He knew he had to pull away and tell her to go before anything went further. But then he felt one of her hands slide to the back his head, scratching it softly and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.

For two weeks he would lie on his bed, thoughts of Clara under him filling his every being. Two weeks where he fought with himself to not touch his erection, to let it go. In the end, memories of Clara shouting his name and the touch of his right hand won. He craved her now more than ever.

With a grunt, he lifted Clara up and placed her on his desk. He knocked items out of the way as he pushed her down and spread her legs.

John’s hands pushed her skirt up in search of her undergarments. His hips bucked as Clara’s hands unbuckled him and soon pulled him out. He was already hard and her touch made him weak. As her hands made the motions to make him harder, John separated their lips, struggling to catch his breath.

Desperately, he pulled the thin fabric off and brought her closer. Two weeks had been far too long; entering her was almost enough to lose him. Moaning her name, John breathed against her neck before thrusting further into her. The desk screeched against the wooden floors, no doubt leaving marks of their indecency.

He moaned her name, forgetting for a moment that they were very much in a public building where someone could hear them. It only turned him on more, making him thrust harder.

Clara gripped on to his arms as she came, whispering his name and profanities that sounded like music to his ears.

He came soon after, prying her mouth open with his tongue. John placed a kiss on Clara’s forehead, her soft laugh making him grin.

As Clara got off the desk to search for her undergarments, John glanced up at the cross settled on the wall behind his desk. He wanted to apologize for defiling the house of God once more. For destroying the sanctity of such a home, but his heart and mind screamed for Clara alone.

Screamed for the love that somehow bloomed in the blink of an eye.

 

-

 

It wasn’t a surprise that John favored sleeping on top of Clara with his ear pressed against her chest. He had awoken in the position their first night and continued to be the preferred position every night after that. Quite honestly, he was surprised it took Clara nearly five months to finally ask him why.

“I just like it,” he responded with a shrug.

Clara glared at the top of his head. “John Smith, I know you well enough to know that that’s not the only reason.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her accusation. John’s hold on her tightened as he looked up at her. Even with her death-defying glare, he could tell there was no ill will. “Because this is real and true.” He settled his head back on her chest. “This heart of yours that soothes my hectic mind.”

Clara’s ministrations on his head stilled at his confession. John was tempted to keep quiet after, to keep his head down and simply let his words bubble in her mind. But his heart was pounding and he knew where he wanted his words to go.

“I would revoke this world and the next to spend the rest of my years in your arms,” he whispered.

John’s head was pulled up and he was faced with Clara’s. Her expression was all eyes, wide and filled with tears. His arms slipped from around her waist and he propped himself up. Clara’s hands lowered from the top of his head to the sides of his face, her thumbs gently caressing each cheek.

“I love you.”

Her declaration caught John by surprise, his own eyes going wide. “What?”

“I love you, you stupid, stupid man.” Clara let out a cry mixed laugh, her smile wide and intoxicating.

John laughed along with her and brought her in for kisses. With every kiss that they separated from he whispered words of love in return.

 

-

 

The town was small, a couple hundred citizens that knew each other far too well. Secrets were never kept. John was always surprised and proud at how long him and Clara had managed to keep their relationship to themselves. Ten months, it had to be the longest record.

So naturally, it was overdue for someone to catch them. He never imagined it would be one of Clara’s students.

 

_“I need to go back to the church, I promised to let Laurence do another confession.”_

_“Another one? What did he do this time, step on a bug?”_

_John grinned at his lover’s remark. “I’d rather pardon simple acts than a declaration of murder.”_

_“Very true.” Clara let out a sigh and smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”_

_He nodded in response, leaning his face close to hers._

_“_ John _, the kids.”_

_“They’re all out playing. Blink of an eye and then I’m gone.”_

_Clara hummed for a moment before giving him a quick peck on the lips. She shoved him out of the schoolhouse, not giving him a chance to protest at how chaste the kiss was. As he began to walk away, he looked to his right to find one of the students, Sarah, sitting on the platform of the schoolhouse. Her face was bright red and she avoided his stare._

 

He should have been more attentive. He had assumed it was the heat from the day that she had merely taken a break from running about. The thought never crossed his mind that a student had caught sight of the kiss. It wasn’t until Clara had called him the following day.

 

_“What ever you do, do not get angry at yourself or Sarah for what I’m about to say, do you understand?”_

_“Clara? What are you-“_

_“Do you understand?”_

_John nodded his head before remembering that he was on the phone. “Yes, I understand.”_

_Clara was quiet for a long moment and then she spoke, “Sarah saw the kiss from yesterday. I noticed her mind was far away after recess, but I didn’t think anything of it. After classes were over, she ran straight to her mum and told her what she saw. She was confused, since she had been told priests couldn’t be married, yet there we were locking lips.” She took in a deep breath. “Her mother called the parents of all the students. They’re refusing to let them come unless they replace me with someone else.”_

_“_ What? _” John shouted in to the phone. He frantically looked around the room, searching for anything that would calm him down._

_“What did I say?”_

_“I know what you said, that doesn’t change how I feel.” His free hand pulled at his hair, his heart was pounding._ What had he done? _“I saw her as I was leaving. She looked out of sorts; I should have asked what was wrong. This could have been avoided.”_

_“John,” Clara whispered. “This isn’t your fault.”_

_“What are we going to do?” He was completely lost._

_Clara’s sniff caught his attention. “We stop.” John’s breath caught on his throat. “This town loves you and you’ve been here far longer than I have. I won’t let this ruin you.”_

_He nearly lost his grip on the phone. “Clara, please don’t. Don’t do this,” His voice quivered as he pleaded for her to change her mind._

_“I love you, John Smith. Never forget that.”_

_“Clara,_ please- _“_

 _“John_ , _” Her voice was desperate and the sob that escaped her lips was painful. He felt his own tears streaking down his cheeks._

_“And I love you, Clara Oswald,” he managed to whisper._

_John kept the phone pressed to his ear, listening to Cara’s cries before she hung the phone. He sat on his desk and stared at the phone, his vision blurred by the tears._

-

 

Clara continued to go to the schoolhouse every morning, or so John overheard from mothers. It had been a week since they had been caught.

No child went near the school, but every family attended mass regularly, this fact alone made it nearly impossible for John to continue giving service. He had been part of the scandal. An affair involved two.

So why had they not reprimanded him?

Sarah’s mother visited him some time in the week; John couldn’t keep steady eye contact with her.

“You don’t need to fear me, Father Smith. I understand you were but a victim in all of this.” She gave him an understanding smile, nodding as though she knew what had been happening the whole time.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are but a priest of a small town and Miss Oswald is a _modern_ woman. Social conventions don’t bind her. You simply fell into her trap. We understand. Besides, Miss Oswald confessed to it herself.” John tilted his head at that. “The other mothers and I went to her home, to confront her, and she said she couldn’t help it. That you were just so wonderful, she couldn’t stop her temptation to kiss you.”

She patted his hand that lay on the desk reassuringly as she got up to leave his office.

John stayed still, digesting the words the mother had said. Clara, sweet Clara, wouldn’t do anything to sully his name. She claimed it to be a simple kiss that she succumbed to. It was a weakness on her part, not his. She refused to let the town think him as anything but the innocent man of God they all thought he was.

Taking in a deep breath, he got up from the desk and looked over at the cross lying on his desk. This was his divine punishment. This was the moment he had been waiting for the instant his heart beat for Clara Oswald.

He flung the cross in anger across the room, the bible followed. Soon different pieces of paper and books were spread across the office. John kicked the desk and toppled his chair over. Sobs of anger escaped his lips with every article that was thrown everywhere.

Why was he so weak? Why didn’t he confront the town the moment Clara had called him? Why couldn’t they be happy? 

John got down on his knees and cried into his clasped hands, apologizing to God over and over until his throat grew sore.

 

-

 

It was three in the morning when John ran to Clara’s home. _Succubus_ had been written on the side of her home and it boiled his blood. He pounded on her door as loudly as he could without screaming her name, the shuffling from inside cause him to knock harder.

“John?” Clara’s eyebrows were knitted over her blood shot eyes.

John pulled Clara in against him. He held her as tightly as possible, burring his face in to her hair. He heard her muffled sob as her arms wrapped around him and gripped on to his shirt for dear life.

“Run away with me.”

Clara pulled away from him. “What?”

“Pack your things and go away with me. We can go to Blackpool, you can finally see your gran, and actually be together without hiding.”

“But the town, the church. They’re your everything.”

John held on to her face, her expression pleading. “ _You_ are my everything, Clara. I’d leave the world if it meant I could be with you. Please, don’t even argue.”

Clara stared at his beseeching eyes for a moment and gave him a single nod. The nod soon picked up speed and she laughed through her tears. John smiled brightly and pressed his lips against hers, as though she were the breath he yearned for.

Once they separated, John took her hand and brought her up to her room. He wanted to ravish her, to push her down on the bed and claim her once and for all. Leave visible marks that would let the town know _exactly_ what was happening between the town priest and the schoolteacher.

However, her eyes were so large and filled with love. He had know doubt he looked the same. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, and as he lowered he walked her towards her bed. Gently laying her down, he left wet, open kisses in his trail. She did not argue when he pulled her nightdress off. With every kiss he pressed on her body, goose bumps appeared.

John took in one of her breasts in his mouth, one hand massaging the other. His tongue flicked at her nipple every so often, causing Clara’s breathing to hitch. He kissed his way to the other, giving it the same attention.

“John,” Clara whispered.

He looked up and fell in love with her all over again. John pushed her further into the bed and let his hand slip down between her folds. It was hot to the touch and caused his member to twitch in anticipation. He massaged her clit with his thumb as two other fingers entered her slowly.

Clara moaned and struggled to breathe evenly. She brought his face up to hers, kissing him deeply. Their tongues collided against one another, desperately trying to find a way to get closer.

John slipped his fingers out of Clara, much to her displeasure, and unbuckled his belt to remove his trousers. Their eye contact did not break for a moment. He towered over her as he pumped his length and soon positioned it in front of her entrance.

With a single nod from her, John entered Clara in a single thrust. She kissed him hard to hide her wince. He thrusted deep and forced himself to keep a slow pace for the two, making sure to keep his mind clear headed enough to kiss her as passionately as she deserved.

Each pump of his hips caused them both to moan each other’s names. Clara hands held on tightly to his back while John wrapped his arms around her. He pressed open kisses against her neck, this time not fearing leaving any marks. He sucked, bit, and licked different parts of her neck, enjoying the shivers that ran through her body.

They both began to breath erratically, the tension building up. She whispered his name and he shouted hers. John slipped his hand between them and rubbed her once more, causing Clara to shut her eyes tightly.

She came a moment later, her throbbing walls causing him to come soon after. He kissed her forehead, the way she had done the first time they laid together.

“Clara, my Clara.”

 

They left the following morning without a word to the town.

Clara held on to John’s arm tightly in the train, her head rested on his shoulder. She had been smiling uncontrollably since they had awoken that morning. He was guilty himself of not being able to wipe his smile off.

The further the train went, with every passing scene, the more their tense shoulders relaxed and reality sank in. They were free from the restrains of the small town, no longer tied to the fear of being seen together.

“I love you, Clara Oswald.” John didn’t even have to look around to see if they were alone for him to say those words. They didn’t even have to be whispered.

Clara looked up at him and smiled that contagious smile of hers, dimples and all. “And I love you, John Smith.”

Her voice was even and precise and it made his heart soar. Giggling at one another like a couple of school children, Clara brought John down for a tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! stay tuned for more stories to come


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